


god machine

by AmaurotDreaming (sinumbral)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Amaurotines (Final Fantasy XIV), Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Magic, Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:15:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23980678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinumbral/pseuds/AmaurotDreaming
Summary: Elidibus is, for Elidibus must be.
Kudos: 8
Collections: Ktísis: A Final Fantasy XIV Fanzine





	god machine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Ktísis, @amaurotine_zine on Twitter, and the last work written under my old username AmaurotDreaming.

Elidibus-That-Is sits on a rock by the River Anyder; even without the morning fog, it would be too wide to see across. The mist only adds to the mystique of the pre-dawn hours, crepuscular sunlight from below the horizon scattering on the droplets and setting the world aglow.

It is a time for beginnings and for initiations.

Like that of Elidibus-That-Will-Be, whose steps across the wet sand make a sucking sound that mars the beauty of the scene, though the younger yet has no understanding of its import.

"Dost thou know why I have called to thee?" Elidibus-That-Is asks as he approaches: a ritual question, though not typically phrased _quite_ so archaically as that. But he is older than most of their kind, and there are even those who say that time did not begin until Elidibus-That-Is ordered it so, and neither did the stars move in the heavens without his command.

Elidibus-That-Will-Be shakes his head slightly, moving to sit on the rock across from the elder. "No seat lies empty, and I have no gifts that would call for the formation of a new one."

"No seat lieth empty, it is true," Elidibus-That-Is responds, "but time passeth, as do I. I have called thee here to serve in my stead."

The younger looks up suddenly, eyes lifting from the sand; his white mask hides the fullness of the expression on his face, but his mouth makes a small 'o.' "Then you're _leaving_? But me--I cannot do as you do, I do not see the order of things as they are..."

Elidibus-That-Is raises a hand. "Thou dost not, no; thy gifts are greater still, for within thee lies the ability to _create_ the order that I can only see. Endless reeds lie upon the shore, but where I envision the boat they might make, thou know'st how they must be woven together in order to float." He takes his scarlet mask off then, raising old and sightless eyes to the sky. "That will be invaluable in days to come, I think."

Elidibus-That-Will-Be lets out a small gasp in shock: to remove one's mask is an act of profound intimacy, or... A heron's harsh cry splits his thoughts, the single note casting into his mind an understanding of the bird's actions, its hunger and desire...and all that might come about as a result of them. "...I see."

"Dost thou?" Elidibus-That-Is asks, calling forth his brand and then leaning back slightly such that the red light remains behind, resting on a fingertip. "Look, listen, learn: what art thou?"

He looks downwards again, taking his own mask off to cradle it in one hand; the other traces over it. The memory of the heron's song lingers in his thoughts, as does the sight of the scuttling sandpipers that crossed his path on the way here...the birds, seeing all, cognizant of every shift in the wind and knowing instinctively how to fly...

In his hand, the mask changes shape; white becomes red.

"I am Elidibus," he says, voice a bit shaky at first from the exertion of the magic that passes between them, and then again, stronger. "I am Elidibus."

"Look, learn, remember," the other says, passing his brand.

Their hands do not touch, but a spark of aether passes between them.

Elidibus-That-Is takes it, donning mask and brand alike as he pulls himself to his feet. "What should I tell the others?"

Elidibus-That-Was smiles at him, putting his own mask back on: it is pure white, now. "...tell them I hath gone for a swim."

In the mind of Elidibus-That-Is, a thousand possibilities unfold from those eight simple words. With a single nod, he turns away, back towards the city. The sun is at his back, and from the morning mist he is born anew.

* * *

There are two of them standing there, on the rocky shore of the Cloud Sea, and Urianger regards his companion with steady eyes that peek over the top of his veil; of the two of them, he feels profoundly the more naked, and it is not merely a matter of clothing that leaves him such. "Thou art certain, then, of my course?" It is not the other's motivations he questions, merely his ability to see the plan through to fruition.

"Am I?" comes the answer, from the man clad in white, given to furtive smiles beneath the eyeless gaze of his beaked mask. "After all, it was ever _you_ who saw so much more clearly than I: yours the eyes to see, and mine the voice to shape." A smile, then, accompanied by a slight shaking of the head. There's a single rich tone, more sung than spoken, before he continues. "It will be as _He_ wills."

And with those words, he steps off the edge, falling into the abyss, the limitless blue, a fading white speck that vanishes amidst a brightness Urianger can't quite focus his eyes upon.

There is a ringing in his ears; it isn't quite the bells, calling the people of the distant city to prayer.

* * *

In Ishgard, a choirmaster lowers his baton; the morning chorus has been sung, the voices of man and dragon ringing out in a harmony such as this world has never known.

Far away, in the south of Thanalan, a lone monk chants his devotions to Rhalgr. No voices join his, only the rancorous cries of Griffins.


End file.
